On Saturday 31st May, 2014 I was diagnosed with breast cancer – I had two tumours in my right breast, and needed a mastectomy and reconstruction. On that day, I wrote this diary entry:

"Three stories in the news today about women: 1. Meriam Ibrahim, a Sudanese woman sentenced to hang for 'apostasy'. A crime of being a christian and marrying a non-Muslim man. 2. Two cousins, aged 14 and 15, who were raped and murdered in Northern India. 3. Farzana Parveen, murdered by 20 of her own relatives for 'illegally' marrying a man of her own choice. My simple mind can barely comprehend that these truly horrific violations of human rights can happen anywhere in the world, anytime, let alone now. My own life in comparison to that of these women seems blessed. No one is trying to hurt me or deny me my rights and liberties. The medical team at The Mermaid Centre are doing the best they can to treat my breast cancer. My amazing husband, family, friends and colleagues are all doing their best and are emotionally and psychologically supporting me. I feel loved and I feel wrapped up in an enormous, thick, patchwork blanket of comfort and care. I don't feel hard done by or unlucky, I do feel fortunate to live now, here, surrounded by the people in my life."

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I was in a state of shock for some time after the diagnosis. I also felt a great sadness and an enormous sense of guilt for delaying the diagnosis – I had missed opportunities for mammograms having read a misleading statistic that they actually cause 1 in 250 breast cancers. My thoughts were also focused on my children: Alisha, 14, and Kai, 29.

When I was told I needed chemo, I cried, but I felt that I needed to follow the consultant oncologist's advice almost unquestionably. I wanted to hand over responsibility to the professionals and just let them do what they thought best. My biggest worry was my immune system being compromised and catching viruses or getting a bacterial infection that I couldn't recover from.

I had six sessions, one every three weeks, provided my blood tests were okay. The drugs were delivered intravenously via a drip. After my first session I struggled to sleep – I had to keep going to the toilet, had a headache and although I wasn't in severe pain, I was uncomfortable. I didn't feel sick but had a greatly reduced appetite for the few days after treatment, and flavours were much blander.

I started drinking two and a half litres of water, juicing raw veg and fruit every day, and going to a gentle flow and restorative yoga. The next two sessions were relatively trouble-free, then after the fourth I had a reaction, which made me shake violently, so I was admitted to hospital. My white blood cell count was extremely high and my heart rate was fast, so I spent two days in hospital, getting chest x-rays, and having fluid and antibiotics administered through a drip. I recovered and went home, but had a similar reaction to the next session, staying in hospital for a night this time.

After my final chemo session I was shaky again, but I was convinced it was psychosomatic – I was in the middle of a brilliant book I was really enjoying, and as I got engrossed in it I would stop shaking. But whenever I put the book down, I started shaking again. The hospital agreed, so we monitored my temperature at home for the next hour, and I carried on reading. My husband Simon read to me when I was finding it hard to carry on, and after an hour the shaking stopped completely.

Chemotherapy, for me, was about counting. Counting the weeks between one session and the next. Counting the sessions that were behind me and how many were left. Counting the days after a session to pinpoint when I was in the 7-10 days where my immune system was lowered. I hated those days. I felt fed up with not going to parties, events, crowded places and worse than that, fed up with not being physically close to my family if they were unwell. At one point during those days Alisha had a tummy bug and I had to lie in bed listening to her being sick all night from my bedroom, with Simon looking after her. It makes me cry even now remembering it; to not be able to take care of your children when they are ill is truly awful. But I also counted down to positive things too – like the seven days until my beautiful, funny daughter's 15th birthday.

My mood changed after the fourth session – I started to feel low and I was running out of steam. My consultant referred me for counselling, which I started after my last chemo session. I felt that treatment took away a lot of the essence of my personality. It's hard to describe, but I just didn't feel like myself anymore – I kind of felt like a child. I actually took a soft toy – which had belonged to Alisha – to bed with me. I've never done that as an adult before or since.

I felt anxious when I was on my own and would get upset if Simon was late home from work. I started going with Alisha to her grandmother's house on Tuesday afternoons, which I didn't normally do, so that I wouldn't have to be by myself for too long. I organised a 'Janet-sitting rota' for the few days after my fifth chemo session in case I had an adverse reaction. I just felt very vulnerable.

I focussed on the fact that the same thing making my hair fall out was killing cancer cells

The physical effects of chemo weren't as bad as I thought they might be, but the emotional effects were sometimes worse. I didn't anticipate feeling so unlike the essential 'me'. It was also difficult when people told me horror stories about other cancer sufferers they knew. I think people saw me looking well and assumed I was coping better than I really was. They didn't realise how scared the stories could make me feel.

Between chemo sessions I did as much as I could, whenever I had the chance or energy. I went to yoga every week, and the meditation saved my emotional health, as I was able to use the techniques at home and in hospital. I also walked Buster, our dog, often for two hours at a time along the Cornish coastal path, and I did a huge amount of reading about nutrition and cancer. We increased the amount of organic food we cooked and used a chemotherapy cookbook, Chemo Cookery Club, by Penny Ericson, which a friend mentioned to me.

I had my hair cut very short as it started to fall out, rather than shave it, and I found lovely head-wear from Simply Wigs, through another friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer at the same time as me. We shared many book recommendations and lots of lunches. I also read a book called Anti-Cancer: A New Way of Life by Dr David Servan-Schreiber and Foods to Fight Cancer: Essential Foods to Help Prevent Cancer by Professor Richard Beliveau and Dr Denis Gingras, both of which I recommend. They gave me a sense of empowerment and still help me to feel optimistic.

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I had some very common side effects from chemo: mouth ulcers, (only a few and they went very quickly), a urinary tract infection, brittle nails, and complete hair loss. I was upset about the hair loss but only for a very short time – I focussed on the fact that the same thing that was making my hair fall out was killing cancer cells, and it was temporary.

One of the loveliest things about the time when I was having chemotherapy, was that my daughter joined me in my mission to read all of the Harry Potter books. Alisha had read a couple and had watched all the films, but we read each book, then watched the corresponding film together with Simon. The escapism of was very helpful, but they also had parallels to my situation. I started calling my cancer 'Voldemort', and when I was doing yoga meditation I imagined I was breathing out the dark smokey grey of the Dementors. I still do that. It meant a huge amount to me that Alisha read the books with me. And my son Kai came home when he was able to and cooked lovely food for me. He kept in touch much more than usual, which was such a treat.

My husband often cooked for me, using the chemo cookery book, when I didn't have the energy. He came to all of my chemo sessions and we would read and talk and do Sudoku puzzles. He was there for me physically and emotionally, always keeping calm and managing to work, doing more in the house and looking after Alisha and me. He is our hero.

On the day of my last chemo session, 27th November, 2014, I wrote this in my diary:

"I feel well today. I feel optimistic most of the time. Occasionally, I get spooked by the fear of what could happen. I went away without Alisha recently and I had a mild panic attack in the early hours of the morning before I left. I think it was linked to the idea of leaving her through dying. I used yoga/meditation techniques to work through it and was able to leave. I was really glad I went as it was a really good trip and another step towards living a normal life for both me and her. The counselling I have had has exceeded my expectations. The counsellor was absolutely amazing, a brilliant listener who got to the nub of issues and helped me work through them so incredibly well."

Since treatment has finished I have been out and about a lot, which is more like the real me. I became much less outdoorsy during chemo, partly because I was anxious about infection, and partly because I felt colder. Now that my body is returning to normal I've been kayaking and swimming in the sea as well as running and walking. I even ran the Great North Run. I feel like me again, and it's wonderful.

The materials in this web site are in no way intended to replace the professional medical care, advice, diagnosis or treatment of a doctor. The web site does not have answers to all problems. Answers to specific problems may not apply to everyone. If you notice medical symptoms or feel ill, you should consult your doctor - for further information see our Terms and conditions.

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